


Helfire

by needleyecandy



Series: Fucking February [63]
Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate History, BDSM, I almost forgot to tag that one, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgy, Possession, Secret Societies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9874238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needleyecandy/pseuds/needleyecandy
Summary: Wealthy brothers Thor and Loki spent their Grand Tour rather differently than most. They return home and form a society to practice what they learned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> SOTD- Rouge Bunny Rouge, Embers
> 
> Enjoy!

The brothers had carried the title from birth, as their father had died while their mother carried them and so the succession was paused until she was delivered. Had they been daughters they would have been shuffled off to the dowager house, all three of them. Instead they were born into the title and made their mother the most powerful woman in the realm while she served as their regent. So powerful that when asked to name the elder and she refused, claiming glibly that the midwife had forgotten to keep track, no one dared press. Instead they were the earls of Mikillklif and even the emperor did not argue.

When they reached manhood they made the grand tour and rumors filtered their way home. That they had burned a path of drunken revelry across Thýskaland. That they had ignored Frankland completely. That they lingered in Italia, pursuing secret wisdoms. On Good Friday, it was said, they ran half-naked through the Sistine Chapel, whipping the faithful and earning themselves the name I Diavoli. That for ever hour spent upon the sights, another was spent on the erotic arts. That when they came home they brought trunks full of books that none but they were allowed to read.

They settled into their estate while their mother took her turn at travel and while she was away they began the digging. If any found it strange that they wanted a series of caves built into the hill, none spoke of it aloud.

When the caves were complete the invitations were sent out. Never more than one or two at a time, and with no care for rank or wealth. They were as likely to invite a stablehand as they were a prince. It was said the king himself had outright begged for membership and been refused. And there was one other thing that distinguished this club from the other Hel Fyr clubs: the brothers invited women on an equal footing.

And that was what brought Inge here. She had been inducted as a junior member three years ago and enjoyed all the revelries and feasting that came with it. A year ago she had been offered induction into the High Order but cautioned, vaguely, that certain events might result in issues within her marriage. As she knew the club's reputation and as her aging husband was quite impotent she had little doubt what these issues might be, and so had regretfully declined. But now her husband was dead, leaving her young, rich, and entirely at liberty.

The now-familiar façade gave her the same spark of excitement she had felt upon her first visit to the caves. It was built into a hillside, designed all around to look like a gothic church, with soil walls in place of buttresses, and soaring above were the new-made ruins meant to give the look of age. The gates were kept locked until all members were in attendance, milling about the courtyard and making conversation about the weather and ignoring the pangs from their day-long fasts.

The gates opened in perfect silence; by the time they noticed, the steward was already back in his own cave, bowing his greetings to each member as they passed through. It was a snug little room, bright and warm, where he might wait comfortably until all had departed and he could lock the entrance behind him.

They moved slowly at first, letting their eyes adjust from the coldly fading sunlight to the deeper glow of fire. Chalk chips crunched beneath their feet, remnants of the excavation that had created this system. The scent of chalk hung heavy in the air about them, white and bone-like.

As always, there was a bottleneck of people awaiting their turn at the robing room, where they would don the long black cloaks that covered their heads and shrouded their bodies, before they could spill into the circle cave. The torchlight flickered across the carvings that adorned the narrow walls. They had so frightened her, that first time here, all these ghastly faces and obscene shapes, but even greater than her fear had been the ecstatic thrill they sent shivering through her. Once all were gathered in the circle they continued on to the catacombs, careful to make the journey in exactly twenty-two steps.

At the entrance to the catacombs the terrifying faces gave way to lewd carvings at every height from chalk-white floor to smoke-kissed ceiling from which the members took their first wine of the evening; stone vulvas held deep red pools from which the wine was lapped; stone phalluses were hollowed so the wine could be sucked from the brimming stone testicles. Only after drinking themselves to dizziness (a swift task considering their famished state) could an individual progress to the banqueting hall.

This room was a marvel of design, forty feet across, she was certain, and the ceiling at least as high. The cells that surrounded them were filled with the evening's hired entertainment; men and women, nude, blindfolded, some alone and dallying with slick stone dildos, others in pairs or trios and already copulating in every imaginable combination. And that was the game of it, for the drunken guests to ignore the cries of pleasure and desperation echoing all about them as they ate and drank and rivalled their fellows for the filthiest joke.

This was the farthest the junior members could attend. As the meal drew to a close she saw the longing upon their faces as they gazed at her, the newest of their ranks to be promoted. Tonight, when the others returned to the outside world, she would continue. Tonight she would see the brothers.

The Steward at last rose to his feet and said the ceremonial words of dismissal. The junior members rose and cast last envious looks at her before choosing, most of them, which of the performers they would take with them to their beds. Inge had always taken several, so that as the tongue and jaw of one grew tired the next could take their place rather than bringing an end to her pleasure.

When the Inner Circle were left alone they rose and began to disrobe, ladies playing maid for one another, until not one person wore one single stitch. The steward took his place at the entrance to the far tunnel and as each member entered they opened their mouths and he placed a coin upon their tongue, whispering lewdness as he did so.

They filed through the far tunnel until they came to a wall splitting their way in two. They parted like water, each one turning the way opposite the one before, until they turned a sharp corner and melted back into a single group and she gasped. There before them was a subterranean river, the far shore fully obscured by fog and darkness. A boat awaited with a masked figure on the shore beside it. As each member approached they opened their mouth and he plucked the coin from within. When his boat was full he ferried them across into the gloom.

Not until they were almost to the far shore could she see what awaited.

 

*****

 

Thor and Loki had dined alone in the cave above the inner sanctum, as they always did. They ate leisurely, beginning before the members had even begun to congregate outside the gates, and did not finish until the faint echoes of the breaking up of the banquet penetrated even their remote grotto.

"It is your turn to flip the coin, brother," Loki said.

"And your turn to call it."

It was spinning in the air when Loki called tails.

Thor caught it and flipped it onto the back of his hand. "Damn."

"Ah, don't sulk, it is most unbecoming."

"It was your turn last month as well."

"Spoken as though you don't enjoy my turns just as much as you do your own," Loki said with a sidelong glance.

"It's the principle of the thing."

"Well there's your problem. You've developed a principle and now look how it burdens you."

Thor grinned at him. "Let us descend."

Loki went first down the iron spiral, Thor trailing after him. Their thrones – of equal height and equal size, and equally covered in gems, as befitted their equal rank – glowed beneath the torchlight. Nooks carved into the walls held offerings of every imaginable device of deviance and perversion, many of their own invention. The golden chalice stood on a pillar behind the thrones. The brothers held hands as they climbed the steps, not letting go until it was to turn and take their seats.

The splash of Charon's oar told of the boat approaching them through the fog. They shared one last private kiss and sat formally forwards, left hands clasped in Loki's lap, right hands in Thor's. They gave no show of noticing the nude and shivering figures clambering onto the shore. The new one was third out and she stood with her arms wrapped about herself, rubbing her arms for warmth, as the others piled out. Once all were in the cavern and Charon was away, Bloodaxe stepped to the foot of the dais and began his address.

The steward's speech came back to them in mocking echoes and they waited until these sounds fell silent before they rose. Loki turned away from Thor and Thor drew the blood-red robe from his brother's shoulders. Loki took the goblet from its place and descended to the floor. The main part of the chamber had seven layers of carpets, each of them woven with patterns that could become magic when read by knowing eyes. These carpets were plush and warm beneath his feet and he stretched out his toes, digging them deep. He gave a nod and the storm broke out.

Thor sat watching. His brother was a pillar of marble in the midst of it, his back to Thor. He held the goblet in both hands and seen this way one might almost have thought he was in prayer. Bodies surged and teemed about him on the floor in every imaginable combination. Thor flicked his eyes over them, calling out orders when he spied an opportunity for further dissipation.

"Erik, you've been taking a single fist for months now. Isn't it time you tried two? Brunhild, don't you think Svanhild's breasts would look even lovelier bound? WOMAN, MAN's mouth is going unused, such a waste. No, MAN, don't be foolish, that doesn't mean you are to stop fucking her."

Thor smiled at their obedience but already his thoughts were turning to Loki, feeling his own heart race as he remembered how it felt to be the one standing in the midst of the rite. He always loved hearing Loki give the orders. Such dissolution in those cultured tones. It was impossible not to be apprehensive of what followed, no matter how one longed for it, and hearing his brother's voice grounded him and helped dispel his petty fears.

He held off their pleasure, ordering groups to part whenever he saw someone growing close, forcing the tension to build to a fever-pitch. Loki's legs were trembling now, with tension, with desire. Thor waited until he saw a drop of sweat run down that narrow back and disappear in Loki's cleft. It was a path so often followed by his tongue that he could not resist his own flame of desire and when the urgency in the chamber began once again to rise he did nothing to stop it.

Their cries echoed from the high dome of the ceiling, ringing back from the fog-shrouded tunnel where the river disappeared into darkness. The sounds rang from every corner of the chamber and the passageway beyond but their breath itself melted into the fog. He watched it grow dense and deep, wispy fingers beginning to creep up Loki's legs. It heaved and rippled as it contracted around him, climbing higher, higher, until it was spilling into the chalice. Thor shivered at the memory of how it felt, the icy-wet air against his skin, the sudden heft in his hands as the weight of all those cries dissolved into the liquid within.

Thor rose from his throne. He recited the words of dismissal and as one the spent bodies tugged themselves back to the river. Charon knew his role and had returned to collect them. Almost as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone. He shed his robe and descended to stand behind his brother. Loki's skin was cold but when Thor reached around to grasp his cock, oh, that was hot. Loki leaned back into Thor's embrace, gathering himself, and in one swift motion drank down the elixir.

"How do you feel?" Thor asked, his voice low and intimate in Loki's ear.

"You know how I feel." Thor did know. He could feel it lurking, moving just beneath his skin. All that pleasure he had taken in. Once it had possession it never wanted to leave. It had to be forced out.

It was worth it.

Thor took his hand and led him back up the dais, supporting him when he stumbled. He walked like a drunk man, intoxicated by what was surging through his veins. Loki paused on the top step while Thor made their robes into a hasty cushion. He guided his brother down to kneel upon them and lean forwards, arms crossed on the seat of the throne and head pillowed atop them.

The alcoves at the back of the cave held implements for the brothers alone. In truth Thor doubted the others even knew they existed; by the time they arrived they showed little inclination to explore anything beyond each others' bodies. Not that he was retrieving anything particularly unusual today. Ropes for Loki's wrists. A crop for Loki's ass. Sometimes the simple ways were best.

"Hands, brother," he murmured when he returned to the dais. Loki lowered his heaving chest to the seat as he raised his arms behind his back. His head was turned to one side and Thor could see his eye flared wide. "Easy. I will care for you, as always," he soothed, rubbing his hand on Loki's back until the worst of the tension ebbed beneath his touch.

"What have you for me tonight?" Loki asked.

"The crop."

"Mmm. My favorite," Loki said, smiling faintly.

It was true that Loki loved the crop; their sufferings on these nights were never with the pain but with the fight. The power that wanted to make its home within them was strong and the pain was a welcome ally in the battle. Another truth was that it was all worthwhile when it was released.

Thor always liked to redden Loki's ass with his hand before turning to other implements. He loved the feel of his brother's skin beneath his palm, he loved how it warmed from his attentions and the noises Loki made that nothing else drew from him. Most of all he loved the intimacy of it. A crop or a whip might hit harder, leave a better mark, but they couldn't caress at the end of each stroke the way he could. "Count," he said.

Loki went tense even though that made it worse. It was impossible not to tense up when one knew that it was with the first blow that the battle began. Thor put one hand on Loki's back to hold him down and with the other began his spanking.

"One," Loki gasped. Thor smoothed his palm over the shocked skin, giving a light pinch to the pert globe just where it was fullest, before drawing away to admire his handprint. He could feel Loki's muscles bunching and clenching as he began to fight. The energy inside him would be trying to make him struggle to get away while he fought to stay still.

The second was hard enough to make his palm sting. "Two," Loki managed through gritted teeth. His hands were white clenching fists that tensed and grabbed at one another in sharp spasms.

By four Loki was shaking with the effort to stay still, to let Thor keep him pinned. At ten Thor picked up the crop.

He looked down at his brother and could not help thinking of his first time. All that power tearing through him like blades in his veins, determined to bury itself so deep inside that he could never drive it out. It was while they were still in Italia, studying with one of the masters there. They celebrated the ritual in the catacombs among the bones of the Christian dead. The master had taken one look at him naked and ordered him fully bound before they began; there was always the risk that he would not have the will to fight the possessing force, and would turn his strength on those attempting to set him free. He had been tied as though for the blood eagle and watched the orgy at his feet while Loki and the master flanked him. That time, too, it had been Loki who held the chalice, and once it was filled with the distilled cries it had been Loki who held it to his lips.

The foreign will had seized him immediately and so caught up in it was he that Loki had the whip cracking against his skin before he even knew it had been picked up. Oh, how it fought, trying to make him get himself loose. It had been so tempting to give in, to let it have his body completely. He might even have done so, had they not been shown the drooling wretch that was the living remains of the last initiate to fail in the expulsion. The possession had driven him into a realm beyond madness. Thor had thought of him and fought within, just as Loki fought without, and together they drove it out.

And when it left him... there had been sixteen people involved in the rite. Sixteen climaxes he had taken in. All sixteen exploded from him in a single massive burst. It was as though he had become the fireworks he had once seen, as though every part of him was expanding, flung apart by the force of it, all sense of self annihilated by crackling and blindness and white, white, white.

Loki's body shook with the strain of it, his usual shudders of pleasure made violent by the force inside. "Come on, brother. Let it out," Thor urged.

"Seventeen," Loki gasped. "Harder. Please."

Thor did as Loki asked, almost hypnotized by the angry red lines striping across the pale skin.

"Twenty-six. Soon, Thor."

This was their own addition to the ritual; when they were learning, the one offering the lash had remained dressed and was given no chance to share. From their first time as masters they had done it without need for thought or discussion. Loki's warning had Thor's free hand wrapping around his cock and stroking. The sight of Loki twisting beneath his crop, the sound of his brother's closeness, made him close as well.

"Thirty-two," Loki said. His lips were parted and his hands grabbed at each other and sweat was gleaming from his skin and Thor had never seen him so high without release.

Thirty-three went unspoken. They came together, Loki's screams echoing through the chalk caverns as Thor spilled across his back. Thor came hard and long, his climax extended by the sight and sound of Loki's own, and still Loki's continued far after Thor had collapsed back to earth. He had one hand braced on the arm of the throne and his head hung over Loki's back, watching, tasting the salt and chalk that hung heavy in the air.

It was fourteen today. Fourteen orgasms ripping their way free all at once. By the end Loki was beginning to whimper with exhaustion and Thor clasped both his hands in one of his own. "You're almost there. Just hold on, you can do it," he urged.

Loki nodded and groaned and trembled.

When it was over Thor freed him from the restraints and gathered him up in his arms. Loki buried his face in Thor's throat as Thor strode towards their stairwell.

"How do I always forget how good it is?" Loki murmured. "So hard, but so good. Oh, love..."

"I always forget as well. Perhaps it is the only way we can ever accomplish anything else," Thor answered, his voice light. "How is your rear?"

"Hurts. I'll have trouble sitting tomorrow, you're so good." The arms around Thor's neck gave an affectionate squeeze.

The stairwell rose from the cavern to their private cave above, and from there into the wine cellar of their house. Soon Thor was settling Loki onto his stomach on their bed. He lay down beside him and twined their fingers together. "You were glorious," Thor told him.

"Mmm," Loki mumbled, already beginning to fall asleep. "Let's skip the coin next month. I long for my chance to watch."

Thor blew out the candle and they fell asleep in the middle of a kiss.


End file.
